


Bitch V2

by Im_A_Terrible_Person



Series: Requests :) [14]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Cock Warming, Dom Alexis | Quackity, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, FaceFucking, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Large Cock, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Sub Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Top Alexis | Quackity, Under-Desk Blow Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29988759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_A_Terrible_Person/pseuds/Im_A_Terrible_Person
Summary: Alternate ending to Bitch.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt
Series: Requests :) [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2193852
Comments: 5
Kudos: 163





	Bitch V2

**Author's Note:**

> For @PeachesMcBabyowo <3
> 
> I'm willing to add another scene where they actually fuck, if you'd like.

Every time Quackity tried to talk to somebody, there was always some sort of… tension. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, nervous that HE was watching him. Quackity loved Schlatt, he did, but sometimes he could be a bit… overbearing. Maybe just let him have friends? Let him speak to people?

Nope. Whenever Schlatt caught him speaking to someone, even if it was his actual job, even if he’d asked him to, he always freaked out. Dragged Quackity back to the White House to scold him (to fuck him over his desk until Quackity couldn’t speak, couldn’t move). Quackity maybe liked that, maybe loved that. Liked that Schlatt owned him like that.

It got old. Sometimes, when he’s just trying to do his job, just get something done, Schlatt pulled him away, fucked him so brainless that it had him checked out for the rest of the day, dazed. Sure, it felt nice, but eventually projects start building up. Quackity had work he needed to get done, but Schlatt didn’t seem to care. Which was infuriating; Quackity grew tired of it quickly.

“Quackity? Are you alright?” Fundy’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He shifted, tried to appear normal.

“Yeah, what did you say?” He was trying to finish a bill, just one, and he needed some information from Fundy to complete it. But at this point, speaking to someone in the open provoked an almost Pavlovian response in him, made his heart beat a little faster, face reddening. He cursed himself for it. Quackity finally got to work on this and Schlatt still preoccupied his thoughts, took over his mind? It was pathetic, how much of his time, his energy, his life he spent on Schlatt (on Schlatt’s dick).

Quackity forced himself to listen to Fundy as he summarized what he’d told Quackity, annoyed. God knows the next time he’d get the free time needed to do this, he had to use every second. No daydreaming about Schlatt, legs trembling with the memory of being bent over Schlatt’s desk, pounded until he was drooling, begging, overstimulated. No, he had to concentrate. Focus.

It took a few minutes to write everything Fundy said, abbreviating when needed. At least he finally got something down, finally did something. Quackity took his role as vice president seriously, even if everybody around him treated it like it was an empty title, just another word for ‘Presidential Whore’.

He did stuff. Quackity wasn’t just some ditzy cockslut with a fancy name, he worked. He… well, he hasn’t done a lot as of late, but Quackity still had duties, had responsibilities. Like this, this counted as working. He was consulting Fundy, on some choices, for ideas, for his opinion. He wasn’t useless.

Once he finished with Fundy, he returned to the White House with pride swelling in his chest, almost grinning. See? He had just taken a step forward on an important project, gathered info, taken notes. Now he was going to draw up a rough draft of the bill, using that information as a reference in opposition to the notes Schlatt had given him.

He sat down at his desk for the first time in weeks. The chair almost felt strange, like he wasn’t allowed to be there. His desk was simple, sturdy. Not as polished or as fancy as Schlatt’s, but it still functioned. Looked nice enough. Quackity got out the unfinished documents, dusty from being left in the drawer for so long. God, he’d been so lazy, slacked off so much.

“Quackity? What’re you doing?” Schlatt’s voice was just this side of incredulous. What, he couldn’t work, too? He peered at Schlatt out of the corner of his eye. He was holding the door open, but he couldn’t quite catch his expression, just out of his line of vision. Sure, he could look over, but that would ruin the working aesthetic.

“Working.” Succinct, to the point.

Quackity started writing. Yeah, he remembered how to do this. He’s a little rusty, but he still had the basics down. Schlatt sighed, shut the door behind him. Quackity refused to look at him, forcing his eyes to stay trained on the paper as he continued writing, occasionally glancing over at his notes, making edits every so often.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” Quackity played dumb, gave Schlatt a questioning look before returning to his bill.

“Was it Wil? You know he isn’t right, right?” Oh, he was going to try to make Quackity feel dumb? Not fucking happening.

Quackity didn’t answer. So what if Wilbur had bluntly asked why Quackity even went to meetings, had asked what he even did in their administration? He didn’t care. Quackity knew he wasn’t exactly… essential to the running of their country. But that didn’t mean Wilbur had to point it out, that was just rude. He scowled.

“Quackity?” Schlatt sat down across from him. Quackity looked up, surprised. Seeing Schlatt sit across from him, in his place, where Quackity normally sat… It made him feel powerful. Schlatt had a worried expression, met his eyes with concern. Something about him looked so vulnerable.

“I’m tired of not getting respect.” He laughed, an angry, harsh laugh that sounded so weird coming out of his mouth, “You don’t get it. Everybody thinks I-I’m useless.” His hands shook, messing up his handwriting. Quackity set the pen down. He felt like he was going to cry.

“Sorry.” Schlatt sounds it, but it was clear he didn’t know how to handle this. He didn’t say that, but it was in his body language. Tense, uncertain if he should get up, try to comfort Quackity somehow. Quackity sighed, leaned back in his chair so he could assess Schlatt. It still felt so weird to be on the business side of his desk, but he liked that.

What would make him feel better about it? Wilbur’s words had bruised his ego, hurt his feelings. Quackity was smart, intelligent, he wasn’t just a pretty face. It offended him that Wilbur had thought so, thought he had just coasted along with Schlatt, leached off of his success. Before this past month, he’d been working very hard behind the scenes.

In fact, the only reason he’d stopped was because of Schlatt. Schlatt’s stupid obsessiveness, his paranoia that Quackity would leave him, spread his legs for the first man he saw. That’s just stupid. Schlatt was being irrational, overbearing, trying to prevent Quackity from leaving him. Quackity would never leave him, couldn’t. He loved Schlatt too much to do that.

It was almost insulting that Schlatt didn’t trust him to not leave him. Made Quackity angry, his frown deepening as he looked at Schlatt. Schlatt looked progressively more nervous, but he didn’t speak. Then it hit him. Quackity stood up, grabbed his paperwork. Schlatt stood, too, gave him a questioning look. Quackity ignored it, left his office with purpose.

Schlatt’s office was just across the hall. He only had to walk about thirty paces before he was standing at Schlatt’s desk, only a few more before he was standing behind it. Schlatt didn’t speak, held his breath as Quackity sat in his chair. His. Chair. The president’s chair. Quackity set the documents down over whatever Schlatt had done before.

Quackity motioned for him to sit down. He did, hunched over in the chair like he was about to get yelled at. Schlatt was the one who held the real power here; if he wanted, he could have Quackity thrown out into the street, left destitute, destroy his life for this. Instead, he was meekly looking at Quackity like he needed his approval.

Best part? He could tell it wasn’t an act. Schlatt was genuinely scared of Quackity in that moment. Scared that he would leave him, sure, but scared nonetheless. He tried not to look scared, tried not to show weakness, but he gave himself away. His eyes tracked Quackity’s every move, too focused to pull off the… nonchalance he was going for. Everything was just a little off.

“Schlatt. Come here.” He tried not to sound mad, but he’s sure Schlatt could hear the edge to it, something too harsh to be anything but angry. Schlatt complied, stepped around the desk to stand awkwardly beside Quackity. Quackity reached up, grabbing on Schlatt’s tie and using it to force him down on his knees. He choked a bit, resisting at first, but he learned that following Quackity’s guidance meant he didn’t get hurt.

Quackity looked at him, pondering, before petting him. Just sank his fingers into Schlatt’s hair, pulled him a bit until he rested his head on Quackity’s thigh, placed his hands on the floor for support, then running his fingers through his hair. It was soft, fluffy, and the motion made Schlatt’s eyes flutter closed.

Well, now he had an idea. An idea that could go horribly wrong. Quackity pulled on his hair again, pushed the chair out a little as he moved Schlatt until he was kneeling between his legs, staring up at Quackity with a confused look on his face. Quackity left no room for uncertainty, pushing the chair back beneath the desk, pulled Schlatt forward until he could feel his nose press against his thigh through his jeans.

Then he let go, picked up one of Schlatt’s pens, and started writing. Occasionally checking his notes, ignoring Schlatt. Schlatt couldn’t leave, and Quackity was nervous that he’d entirely misread the situation until he felt a hesitant hand trail up his calf. He didn’t react, just let Schlatt unbutton his pants. He didn’t lift his hips when Schlatt tried to pull them off.

Schlatt tugged again, harder this time. Quackity nudged a leg against his side. He wasn’t going to move, Schlatt would have to figure out how to do this on his own. That’s what Quackity had to do, shoved beneath Schlatt’s desk with his cock shoved down Quackity’s throat, paying no mind to him choking. Quackity was nicer than Schlatt. Let him go at his own pace.

He continued with his work as Schlatt tugged at his boxers, pulled them down enough that Quackity’s cock sprung out, smacked against his shirt. He shakily exhaled, forced himself to act like this wasn’t effecting him as Schlatt wrapped a hand around him, almost shy. Schlatt hadn’t done this in a long time, always being the one in control.

The last time he’d sucked Quackity off had been… the first time they fucked. Quackity had been nervous, so he’d swallowed him down, moaned around his cock as he fucked Quackity with his fingers, massaging his prostate. Too long. Schlatt had been so good, had taken all of him. Impressive, considering Quackity’s dick wasn’t exactly small, it was almost as big as Schlatt’s.

Schlatt kissed the head of his cock, lips so soft against the flesh. Quackity bit back a moan as Schlatt delicately suckled on the tip, tongue flicking out to dip into his slit before he pushed himself down further. Schlatt made a distressed noise, a little whimper, at being ignored. He sucked harder and bobbed his head. Well, now Quackity couldn’t acknowledge him, could he?

He didn’t. Tried his damnedest to focus on the bill. To act like Schlatt wasn’t fucking amazing at this. His mouth was so warm, so wet. The feeling of his tongue on the underside of his cock was heavenly. Schlatt had started out sloppy, out of practice, but now that he had a motivator he was so enthusiastic, so good, moaning around him like he was getting off on this more than Quackity was. Wait.

A quick glance proved that he’d slipped a hand into his suit pants, was jacking himself in time with the bobs of his head. Quackity nudged against his arm with his foot, looked away. Schlatt didn’t stop, only went faster, moaning like a whore as he swallowed around Quackity’s cock, practically gagging for it.

Quackity nudged Schlatt again, harder, almost kicking him. Schlatt sucked harder, swirled his tongue around Quackity with a mewl. Well. That was something they’d have to experiment with. Not now, though. For now, he had to get Schlatt to listen to him instead of being a brat.

“Schlatt.” Quackity kept his voice even, stern. He’s proud of himself for being able to pull that off, even with Schlatt sucking his dick like some sort of pro.

Schlatt whined, but he placed his hands on Quackity’s hips anyway. Quackity returned to writing. He didn’t feel like edging himself, though, so he fisted Schlatt’s hair with his non-dominant hand, dragged his head back until his tip rested on Schlatt’s lips. He closed his eyes for a second, picturing it.

Schlatt’s face, so red, mouth slick with saliva. Was he crying? God, Quackity hoped so. The neediness in his eyes. He pulled Schlatt’s head back down until he gagged. The feeling of  Schlatt’s throat spasiming around him, massaging his cock, almost broke him. Instead, he bit his lip, squeezed the pen in his hand as he repeated the motion, fucked Schlatt’s face.

Quackity wanted to see it. He pushed the chair back a bit, brought Schlatt with him. He looked wrecked, stared up at Quackity with a desperation that was unfamiliar but so fucking hot. Schlatt looked so pretty from this angle, face so red and streaked with tears, spit dribbling down his chin as he choked on Quackity’s cock.

He tightened his grip on Schlatt’s hair, listened to that pained whine, so high and breathy that he almost couldn’t believe it came from Schlatt. The president. Fuck, Quackity was face-fucking the president of Manburg beneath his own desk. Making him gag, making him cry, making him mewl and moan like a whore.

Quackity rolled his hips against Schlatt’s face, listened to him choke, listened to him whimper. God, he was gorgeous. Lips stretched lewdly, cheeks hollowing as he swallowed, moved eagerly with Quackity’s hand. Staring up at Quackity through his lashes, eyes hazy and glassy from tears. Quackity couldn’t get enough of watching his cock disappear between those soft lips, almost like some sort of magic trick.

Fuck, he looked so good, felt so good, mouth so hot and wet. Quackity moaned, finally let himself make some noise as he bucked his hips up into Schlatt’s face, making him gag and whine, did it again and again. It sounded so wet, filthy. God, Schlatt was so fucking hot on his knees. Where he belonged.

Quackity came down his throat with a whimper, hips twitching up into Schlatt’s mouth as he arched his back, toes curling. He didn’t let Schlatt go, though, held him there as Quackity forced him to swallow his load. Quackity still didn’t pull out, just scooted his chair forward again and picked up the pen, catching his breath slowly. He released Schlatt’s hair, left him there.

Schlatt didn’t pull off, taking the hint. He just stayed there, Quackity’s soft cock in his mouth, kneeled between his legs and relaxed. So good for Quackity. He started writing again, let himself relax, let Schlatt suckle on his cock needy. Quackity could get used to this.

//BETAREAD: sup my ring pops. uh, yeah hi im the editor- so. yeah. hi again!

**Author's Note:**

> Two more :D


End file.
